In that moment they were two
by Delicious darkness
Summary: George is severely depressed. Many years after Fred's death he is alone in his appartment contemplating the loss of his twin. A friend appears in his appartment and attempts to lessen the weight of his sorrow Made for a challenge


George sat slumped in a brown leather chair in front of the only mirror in his bedroom. The mirror in itself was nothing special. It was ordinary, bland, and yet…

And yet he spent every day in front of it. The black frame that surrounded the mirror was cheap and the reflection was blurry because of the dirty layer of dust that covered its shiny surface.

No. It wasn't the mirror that he loved.

George prided himself with never having been a vain man, he didn't care nor had he ever cared much for his looks. But his greatest happiness came to him when he saw the reflection staring back at him

In that moment when he looked at the mirror, they were two. It was Fred and him, they were together again. Him on the outside looking in and Fred on the inside looking out.

George peered at the red haired man sitting in a brown leather chair opposite of him. It was as he sat in front of the mirror that he could feel it, imagine that his brother was there with him and that the frame of the mirror was only a window's windowsill. There was nothing separating them, only a window and if he opened it he would be able to meet his brother again.

He never opened the window.

He sat as still as death, careful not to breath heavily or to move in any way. Because as soon as he saw that Fred was moving synchronized with him, his reality would be ruined. He would become George again, he would be staring at a mirror and Fred would still be dead.

He stared into Fred's blue eyes. His brother looked tired; his shoulders were sagging as if he didn't have the energy nor the will to sit up in a straight position. He looked miserable as if the very life was slowly, slowly being drained out of him. It hurt him to see his usually cheerful brother in such a state. Fred had always been the most cheerful of the two of them. Fred was like a ball of happy energy, nearly bursting in his own excitement. Now his red hair was streaked with grey. He looked horrible.

George shot in the air as the door to his bedroom unexpectedly opened. His reality was broken.

He was George and Fred was dead.

He leapt from his chair in anger, ready to give his intruder a piece of his mind, and possibly a piece of his fist as well. He reacted badly when people disturbed him. He froze when he saw who it was.

"Luna." He smiled somberly. The woman in person was standing by the door. Her eyes were etched in that ever present look of surprise as if everything around her was a great mystery to her. He sat down in his chair and motioned her to come and sit with him.

Luna walked over to him and sat down in the chair beside him. At first neither of them said anything, there was nothing between them but a companionable silence. Instead of looking directly at Luna, George was staring into the eyes of her reflection in the mirror.

"George." She said in her familiar airy voice. It was like hearing the wind blow softly through the grass.

George liked Luna. Her persona was like a glass of cold water on a hot summer day; refreshing. He hadn't known her well in his younger years, but after he had drifted from his family she had just shown up on his doorstep one day. From that day she had been his most devoted visitor. Her visits were always a surprise to him. She never called or gave him any notice that she was coming, but when she came her presence was always an appreciated relief.

She started fumbling her pockets, clearly searching for something.

"Where did I put it." she mumbled as she patted the pockets on her jacket.

"Aha." She brought her hand inside one of the pockets and pulled out a long scroll of parchment and passed it to George. He took the parchment and opened the scroll, it was blank. He nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks." he turned around in his chair so that he was no longer facing the mirror. Luna always had a way of knowing when he needed something. Only yesterday he had gone out of parchment. George was convinced that she was psychic, as she had a way of predicting future events with the utmost accuracy.

"I'll pay you back of course-" he begun.

"Nonsense." Luna protested with a wave of her hand.

"I give you parchment and come with your daily necessities when you need them and in return I get to check up on you every once in a while." Luna smiled. "That's a great deal if I ever saw one. There's no need to pay me, George. Getting to see you is enough of a reward, as it is so seldom that I am able to do so." There was a silence between them.

"They miss you, you know," she said in sad tone. George shifted uncomfortably at that, he felt guilty for hiding from his family. Hiding was actually a wrong word; it was more like he was escaping from them. Because even in all their kindness their questions were bothersome. And the concerned stares given to him by his parents and his siblings made him uncomfortable.

He could still hear his mother's shrill voice in his ears from the last time he had seen her. _  
__"What on earth are you doing, George! Living in that ghastly apartment! I will not have my son wasting away all by himself. You are coming home right now!"_ It had escalated from there and in the end he had just shut it all out and apparated home. He knew she was only concerned about him, but regretfully her way of showing her worry was by screaming and bossing others around.

"You know I can't-" he began. They had spoken of the matter many times before. Personally he thought that they had exhausted the topic.

"I know how you feel, George." She took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze. "But that won't keep me from telling you that your family misses you. They love you, you know." she gave him a meaningful glance. George sighed.

"I just can't be around them. His empty chair around the dinner table and the empty place where he used to stand beside me… It would be too painful." He explained.

"It's alright that you feel that way, just remember that they care for you." She rose from where she had been sitting.

"I suppose that I should go. I know you don't like visitors." She begun to walk towards the front door. Her hand was on the doorknob when he finally spoke up.

"No." She stopped and turned around giving him an inquiring look.

"No?" she asked.

"You, don't have to leave, yet." George said. "I enjoy it when you come." Luna raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well, that's a surprise. From what Ron and Hermione told me the last time they tried to visit you were very adamant in your wish to stay away from your old past, a past that I am sure includes me as well…" George didn't know what to say about that. He didn't know how to explain his feelings for Luna. He wasn't in love with her, but he felt that they had a special connection.

"But who am I to deny a gentleman his wishes. I will stay, if you wish me to." She said finally. George smiled.

"You are a good friend Luna." He said after a while.

"Oh, I know." she said in a matter of fact voice

Luna pointed towards the scroll of parchment that he was still holding in his hand. "Are you still sending those letters," she asked. George nodded.

He didn't know why he did it. For years and years he had been sending the letters, hoping that one day his owl would come back empty handed –or rather; empty footed- and that the recipient had finally gotten the intended letter. He never said much in the letters, only a few sentences, sometimes more, sometimes less. He guessed it had become some sort of addiction to him, these letters.

Luna sighed and put an arm around his shoulder. She used her other hand to turn his face so that he was looking directly into her eyes.

"You need to leave him behind, so that you can go on with your life." She whispered. George shook his head.

"How can I? We were one, separated only by birth. How can I live when half of my soul is gone?" he said brokenly. He had never voiced his thoughts aloud before, and the truth of his words made pain shoot through his heart.

"Here I am, growing old. Wasting away in this room. What is the point?"

"Do not regret growing old, George. It is a privilege denied to many." Luna said forcefully. He felt ashamed for what he had said. Luna's mother had died in an accident when Luna was very young. Living out one's life and dying was a sore subject to her.

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely.

"It is alright. But you must move forwards,-" She said, changing the topic. "-you must find the courage to live within yourself. You must be brave." She encouraged.

"But where shall I look? I am hollow, there is no courage inside my body, there is nothing but emptiness."

"Then you must look outside of yourself, and find one thing that you can focus on. A single physical thing; a person or a cause. Find the one thing that will give you the will to live." Luna said.

George sighed. What was there to live for? He had no wife, no children. He had drifted from his family. Luna might have said that they still loved him, but how could things possibly be the same after living apart for 16 years? If not for his family and if not for a wife then what was it left to live for? He looked into Luna's sparkling blue eyes. There was only concern and goodness in them. Luna was good, a guardian angel disguised as an eccentric blonde. She was a good friend. A friend. Maybe he could keep it together for a friend?

That night he sent a letter to his brother.

_I am lost._

_You are not here and the part of me that was you is lost to me forever._  
_It will always be lost to me as you will always be gone.__  
_  
_It wasn't fair. It should have been _I_ who died and not you. And yet I wouldn't wish this suffering I am going through on anyone, least of all you._

_Luna came to me today as she does every once in a while. She is a good friend. She has always been good to me._  
_She told me to let you go, but I realize in order to let you go I must also let go of myself. I must let go of the part of myself that was you._

_I know that you will never read this, and yet I have been writing these letters for years and years even though they always return unopened. Perhaps I have not been writing to you at all? Perhaps I have been writing to myself? Perhaps I have been voicing the thoughts that I could not confide to anyone else but you, not even to myself._

_I know now that this will be my last letter. As Luna said I must find the power to go on, and I will do it. It will not be easy, but I will do it. I have found my will._

_I will do it for a friend._

_George_


End file.
